Closeted
by Lieutenant Ch'arles Lorem
Summary: There's a memo that needs to be delivered to Aziraphale from Heaven. Being wary of the hell fire survivor, Gabriel takes Michael with him, and insists on taking a look around the book shop while Aziraphale is out. Inevitably, Aziraphale and Crowley get home while they're still there, and the Archangels find somewhere to hide.


Michael and Gabriel approached the bookshop to find the lights off and the door locked.

"I don't see why two of us needed to run this errand," said Michael.

"Last time I saw him I told him to _shut up and die_. Sandalphon didn't want to go, and I didn't want to go alone."

"Are you _afraid _of him?" asked Michael.

"Pff, No! Of course not …I don't sense him," said Gabriel.

"We can just leave the memo on the door."

"A human might take it."

"I doubt it."

"We should take it inside and lay it on the counter."

"Why couldn't someone just make it appear in his hands?"

"It's been sort of more difficult to get ahold of him that way lately," said Gabriel fiddling with the lock and opening the door without a key. "I mean I don't blame him for being unavailable—"

"You don't blame him? That's a new one." Michael said as they entered the dark bookshop quietly. "What could he be out doing at this hour?"

"Oh, probably something human and unnecessary like drinking alcohol or watching a _movie_ with demons."

"I believe it's just the one demon," replied Michael, approaching the counter to leave the memo on it.

"Wait," said Gabriel. "Let's take a look around."

"A look around? For what? You want to shop?"

"No, we haven't been able to get any clues to what he's up to—"

"Probably because he isn't up to anything—"

"And a quick look around couldn't hurt."

"It's books, and packets of cocoa, that's it. That's the whole shop," Michael said, with crossed arms, leaning back against the counter. A passerby glanced in and saw just long enough to think, _"What a beautiful woman."_ Michael smiled awkwardly at him, willing him to go away.

"Yes, but there's an upstairs," said Gabriel. He looked into Michael's eyes and waited patiently.

"…Ugh fine," Michael said finally. "If I had known you just brought me here to snoop around…"

"It's fine, we'll just take a quick look upstairs, and then we'll go."

The upstairs contained normal human things. The most suspicious thing they found was a cup of tea on the left bedside table that was growing mold.

"He really has pulled away from us, hasn't he?" said Gabriel which earned him an eye roll in return.

"Can we go?" asked Michael.

"Maybe he keeps secrets in the closet." Gabriel said opening the sort of closet with folding doors that look like blinds. "You know the human expression."

"… which one?"

Gabriel didn't answer. The bell above the door downstairs jingled. They could smell alcohol and tomato sauce. They could here laughter.

"Let's go!" said Michael.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. "Oh no… There's some kind of protection here."

"Protection? What do you mean? We entered just fine."

"I can't use a miracle to get us out."

"What?" Michael tried as well but nothing happened.

"Get into the closet," said Gabriel.

"No!"

"We don't want them to know we're checking up on them."

"We'll just be honest!" Michael whispered harshly. "We're here to deliver a memo."

"Michael they're coming up the stairs. Get in the closet."

Michael groaned but followed Gabriel into the closet pulling the doors together behind them. In almost an instant Aziraphale and Crowley were up the stairs, laughing.

"His face!" said Aziraphale still laughing.

"Oh man, you told him, and he just sat there!" replied Crowley.

"You were right," Aziraphale said quietly, coming down from the laughter but still smiling, wobbly from drink. "We'll have to go back there. Go back and see him again."

"He'll make a run for it if he sees us around there again."

"Hmmm," Aziraphale hummed, trying to catch his mental bearings. He sniffed.

"W-What?" asked Crowley, also trying to focus his intoxicated brain.

"Do you smell something?" asked Aziraphale.

"Over your cologne and your alcohol breath? Certainly not." Aziraphale sniffed again. "What is it?"

Aziraphale glanced around the room, and then absentmindedly smelled his own fingers. His eyes narrowed. "Crowley," he said abruptly, "Your tea has been up here for threeeee days."

"Sorry."

"S'okay," Aziraphale said putting his fingers up to his nose again. "My hands still smell like raspberries."

"Mmm," hummed Crowley as though he was thinking about eating. "Hey, fancy- Well-don't suppose the lady at the bar was right, were she? You think people are what they eat?"

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, turning to him with an uncharacteristic smirk. "I don't know," Aziraphale whispered, moving Crowley closer to him by way of pulling on the little ties dangling from his neck. "Do you like to eat snakes?"

"That's not funny, Angel," he said, though he was smiling.

"Mmm, no?" Aziraphale mumbled running his fingers along Crowley's lapels. "Well I do like a good dessert; do you think I taste sweet?"

"Aziraphale, are you coming on to me?"

Aziraphale gasped comically. "Not in the sliiiightest," he said, dipping his head so that the side of his neck closest to the closet was exposed. Crowley took a cue and dipped down to lightly kiss the bare skin there.

The angels in the closet shifted uncomfortably. "I know everyone made jokes about it, but I wasn't actually expecting this," whispered Gabriel.

"Shush, they'll hear you," mouthed Michael.

"Did you hear something, Dear?" asked Aziraphale.

"Hear something?" asked Crowley.

"Yes, I thought I heard a little _psss tchh_ sort of sound."

"Maybe it was just me hissing," Crowley joked, plunging his face back into Aziraphale's neck, and squeezing him into a tight hug, placing a hand right in an area Aziraphale was a bit ticklish.

Aziraphale burst into giggles. "Oh stop, do stop! Stop trying to distract me!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Crowley pulling back to look him in the eyes but not letting go of his waist, "Did you have an agenda?"

"I want to know if you think I'm sweet?" begged Aziraphale, fluttering his eyelashes and bighting his lip as though he was performing for a camera.

"Oh, Angel, you're terribly sweet! But if you want to know if you've got a flavor, you're going to have to let me get a little taste."

"Oh, Crowley," said Aziraphale, letting his eyes droop. "You can have more than a taste." He started untying his own tie. "You can have the whole thing," he whispered whipping his tie from his neck and tossing it onto the bed.

"NOPE," they heard someone say from the closet. The doors slid open, and Michael bounded out.

"Michael!" shouted Gabriel.

"No, no, we are going," Michael replied, handing Aziraphale the memo. "We're not here to interrupt. We came to give you this. It's from the top. Nothing is wrong, it's just a memo. We were looking around, I don't know why we can't miracle out of here—"

"That's my doing, I'm afraid," said Crowley.

"Well, we're going, now. We're going."

"You don't want to know why or how he did that?" asked Gabriel.

"No," said Michael matter-of-factly, heading down the stairs. "I want to go home. …The things I didn't need to know." And in an instant Michael and Gabriel were gone.

Aziraphale started to laugh.

"Why are you laughing?" asked Crowley. "They were in your closet. Invading our privacy!"

"I knew they were there."

"You did?"

"Well I wasn't sure, but I felt like I could sense something, and I think I heard them whispering."

"That's what you were hearing?"

Aziraphale nodded. "Thought I'd give them a show and eventually they'd be too embarrassed to stay."

"Really? Oh Angel, you wouldn't have done that if you weren't drunk."

"That's probably true."

"You did seem a little different than usual. A little much. So I suppose that was all for show then?"

"Mhm. I'm tired. I think I'll have a bit of a lie down," Aziraphale said sprawling on the bed with the memo next to him.

"Oh, okay, I'll just um—"

"Crowley."

"Yeah?"

"I'm kidding," Aziraphale said patting the bed next to him.

Crowley smiled and leaned on to the bed.

"Toss the memo over there, somewhere. I'll read it in the morning."

"Oh, you really are becoming a bit of a rebel," said Crowley, tossing the paper behind him and pulling Aziraphale into his arms.


End file.
